


Redemption?

by skargasm



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm





	Redemption?

**Title:** → Redemption?  
 **Pairing:** → Pre-Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:** → R  
 **Author:** → **Prompt(s):** → Prompt #351 : Parched @ , Prompt: All By Myself @  & Prompt #13 : Shadows @ **Fandom:** → BtVS  
 **Word Count:** → 1193  
 **Genre:** → AU  
 **Beta:** → Unbeta'd but Proofread  
 **Disclaimer:** → Property of Joss Whedon  & M.E., not mine  
 **Summary:** → He didn't want Shanshu but there was definitely a desire for redemption – one victim at a time if necessary....  
 **A/N:** → For the purposes of this story, Spike attacked Xander in the episode “Seeing Red” not Buffy – there was a fledgling relationship before then but he read the signs wrong and went off to Africa....

* * *

So hungry. 

His throat was dry, that arid, parched feeling adding to his overall discomfort. But it was no less than he deserved. They talked to him – all of them, with their gaping throats, crumpled spines, petrified faces. They asked him why, for a reason other than serendipity, for something that made it more than simply they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. When he couldn't answer, they cursed at him. The worst ones were the children – so confused, so scared. He could even tell which ones he had killed with Drusilla – they had numerous bite wounds that could clearly be seen – the wrist, the neck, the arms – phantom blood drip drip dripping onto the ground until the noise was another method of torture. 

He didn't like where he was – it was so dark, heavy with a silent, ominous threat that pushed at his mind and made it all feel so hopeless. 

Hopeless. 

But still hungry. He hadn't been able to gather the energy to go to the butcher, had no money to pay for it anyway. Surrounded by victims bled dry in the past, the bloody wounds taunting him with the luscious blood that would satiate his thirst whilst exacerbating his guilt. Guilt was such a weak word for what he was feeling. He wanted to cauterise his flesh, wanted to flay the skin from his bones in an act of penitence. But he knew it wouldn't help because self flagellation wouldn't bring them back - even now he couldn't brood, found he couldn't even hope for redemption. 

He actually thought they were apparitions when they first appeared. Holding three conversations at once stretched his concentration to the limit but he was aware of the Slayer asking questions, the boy – the sweet smelling boy who called to William as well as to Spike – was there as well, looking concerned. Well, concerned, a little disgusted, a lot confused. They couldn't seem to see the witch who was asking him what he had done? Why he was down in the basement? 

And all the time they were there, watching, questioning, wailing. 

“What are we going to do about him? We can't leave him here – you can see the effect the Hellmouth is having but – I can't take him home Xander, not with Dawn there and - “

“Yeah, yeah I get it. So guess who gets to take care of the deranged vampire? If he bites me and drains me dry I'm gonna come back and haunt you to say I told you so.” Closer until he was standing right next to Spike, reaching out with a warm looking jacket in his hands that he cautiously wrapped around Spike's shoulders as he pulled him close. “Christ, he's nothing but skin and bone! I'll have to get to the butcher – actually, Buffy could you go buy a cooler full and drop it off at my place please? I wanna get him settled before the sun comes up. I can do paperwork at home today to keep an eye on him.” 

Standing wrapped in big arms, face buried in the warmth of a broad shoulder, the voices faded away until they were a quiet buzz in the back of his mind. Peace – such peace. The first peace he had experienced since that thrice damned demon had shoved his soul back into his chest and transported him back to the Hellmouth. Eyes squeezed shut, keeping them out of sight and the hunger faded until it was almost bearable. 

“Xander – are you sure? I mean – I feel like I'm taking advantage after what we talked about. You know you can't – that while he's like this, you'll have to – um - “

“I know what he tried to do. And I know that he stopped. That he went and did something that made sense to him after that night. I'm not gonna say it was my fault but I wasn't completely blameless with the way this thing started. There's something there – it was there before he left, before he tried to - I think it could be there again. I said I wouldn't waste the chance if I ever got it – I guess it's time to live up to my own words. No harm, no foul – I'll wait until he's sane again but I'm gonna give this everything I've got.” He could feel the chest beneath his head vibrate with the words, the lub-lub-lub of the heartbeat having a soporific effect on him. He felt – safe. He even felt a bit more like himself – a bit more sane. Strange – the boy was nearly always off-kilter, his thoughts bouncing from one thing to another, but he made Spike feel more at home than he could ever recall. That had been the lure before Africa – that had led him to misunderstanding, to pushing too far and almost – no, he didn't want to think about that. 

He didn't need more guilt piled on top of what he was already carrying.

Lifting his head briefly, he stared into the eyes of the little girl who had come closest to him. Her eyes were brown, her face covered in dirt and grime, the clothing showing just how long ago it had been. The bite on the side of her neck was relatively neat and she held what looked like a ragged teddy bear in her arms and she looked confused, a little sad. 

“I – I'm sorry. It was part of who I was but I'm not like that anymore. I know it's not enough, but I really am sorry.” His voice was low, nothing more than a mumble really – how could he expect forgiveness from a child who could barely understand that the bogey man was real, that she had been murdered in cold blood?

“What did you say Spike? Can you hear me – are you okay with this? With coming with me?” The girl seemed to be considering his words and he waited, head bowed, feeling that he was awaiting judgement. A soft, sweet smile crossed her face as she nodded and he could see a light come into her eyes before she slowly faded from his sight. 

“Yeah. I wanna come with you.” In his heart, hope was resurrected - that in this boy, he could find a home. That he was not going to be all by himself. It was going to be a long road and he knew that forgiveness was not going to come from all of them. But at least he wasn't alone. A look over his shoulder showed Willow looking sadly at Buffy before she walked away in the opposite direction; showed the Slayer watching as he and Xander left with what he could only interpret as concern and a little envy. Cautiously putting his arm around Xander's lean waist, he almost purred as Xander automatically tugged him closer, vaguely seeing victims who were drifting closer before drifting away again. The way Xander tucked him into his side as he began to lead him from the basement told him that if all went well, he wouldn't be alone ever again. And redemption was possible..... in time.

* * *

fin

* * *


End file.
